


Pressure

by RageSeptember



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Slurs, Character Study, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mickey beats people up a lot, Mickey really needs a hug, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24358177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RageSeptember/pseuds/RageSeptember
Summary: He is eleven and Sandy tells him keep still while she trims the hair on the side of his head with a look of outmost concentration on her face. He is seventeen and tells the wide-eyed kid before him that he'll cut his fucking tongue out if he tries to kiss him. He is twenty-three and wakes up to bright sunlight in his eyes and someone's arm draped over his waist.Mickey, being touched. It's complicated.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Mickey Milkovich & The Milkoviches
Comments: 10
Kudos: 179





	Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> I treat the timeline like Shameless treats the timeline: with extreme liberty.

He is six and he can't hold back the tears because his foot really _hurts_ and he wants his mom to come pick him up and hug him tight until the pain passes, but his mom isn't there and his dad tells him to stop with his goddamn whining and just put some fucking ice on it. _Milkovich men don't go running to their mama like some fucking faggot over a twisted ankle anyway, they man the fuck up and deal with it._ Mickey's not a man yet, he doesn't think, but he's pretty sure he's supposed to be one soon, so he limps to the freezer to get the ice.

He is nine and walking home from school with Joey when they spot Jimmy Linetti and Sarah Sengupta under a tree in the park. Jimmy is lying on his back with his head in Sarah's lap and she's putting flowers in his hair and they're laughing and there's something about the whole thing that makes Mickey feel... Well. He dunno. He feels _something_ and he doesn't like it, it's _weird_ and he needs it to _go away_. Joey follows him without question – does that already – as Mickey cuts across the grass and at first there's only curiosity in Jimmy's trusting eyes but it soon gives way to confusion and hurt and Sarah runs off and as Mickey aims a final kick at Jimmy's curled up body he feels a rush of something that, for a moment, is stronger than fear.

He is eleven and Sandy tells him keep still while she trims the hair on the side of his head with a look of outmost concentration on her face. He's not sure she knows what she's doing, and maybe he'll have to shave his whole fucking head once she's done, but whatever, she asked if she could and she's his favourite cousin, so yeah. Occasionally her fingers brush over his scalp; her arm rests on his shoulder for a moment; she grabs hold of his chin to tilt his head this way or that, and he bites his lip, _hard_ , and he sits very, very still and doesn't make a sound.

He is still eleven and Stephen isn't exactly a friend but they've been in the same class for years and years and now there's a science project and Stephen's mom is having a party with her friends or something so they're at Mickey's house. Maybe they do try to study for the first half hour or so but it's a hot day and there's ice cream in the freezer and the walk there somehow turns into a race, with them jostling and pushing at each other, playfully, the way real friends would. They end up on the kitchen floor, rolling around, and they're laughing between insults when his dad walks in and tells them to cut it out because they look like a couple of queers tangled like that. Terry grabs a beer and disappears again. Mickey and Stephen climb to their feet in silence. They don't get ice cream and they don't talk to each other outside of class again.

He is thirteen and he's always been small for his age but it's never really been _too_ much of a problem until now, until his first stint in juvie. The Milkovich name offers some protection and some measure of notoriety here but it offers challenges, too; people who want to see if he can live up to it; if he's as tough as his brothers and his cousins and his father. It's the second day and the boy behind him in the cafeteria line is several years older, almost twice his size, and he didn't actually push Mickey, just put his hand on his shoulder to get his attention, so maybe Mickey could let it go – except, no, he really fucking can't, can he? He ends up with bruised knuckles, the other kid in the ward, and they give him another month for it, but as he walks down the halls and no one moves to stand in his way, as people moves _out_ of it instead, he knows that it was worth it.

He is fifteen and Iggy tells him that maybe he should go down to the clinic because the gash in his arm is pretty deep and he's _not real good with stitches, man_. Mickey swears at him and tells him to get the fuck on with and stop being such a pussy, it's just fucking stitches. It hurts like a motherfucker when the needle Iggy's boiled goes through his flesh, but he's had worse, and cursing helps with the pain, somewhat. Mickey can tell that Iggy's doing his best to be quick about it; doing his best to _gentle_ when he's put the needle away and is wrapping up the wound. ”Jesus Christ,” Mickey snap _s_ before chugging the beer Colin hands him, ”quit it with the goddamned concerned nurse shit and finish the fuck up.”

He is sixteen and Mandy is laughing as she breaks the embrace by poking her fingers into his ribs, hard. He laughs too as he moves to retaliate. They don't, like, hug _a lot_ , because what kind of pussies go around hugging their fucking siblings all the time, but sure, if he's getting out of juvie or she's back from a summer with their aunt in Springfield, like now, they'll wrap their arms around each other and hold on tight for just a moment. Nothing weird about that. Mandy's his baby sister, and he's gotta look out for her, because that's what you do, you look out for your family. And girls, even tough ones like Mandy, they need hugs and that sort of shit, 'cause they have all these emotions or whatever. So yeah, he'll give her a fucking hug when they haven't seen each other in a few months, why the fuck wouldn't he, it's not like he's got anything to feel _insecure_ about, so you can fuck right off if you have a problem with it.

He is seventeen and tells the wide-eyed kid before him that he'll cut his fucking tongue out if he tries to kiss him. Sex is one thing – even if it's the kind of sex his dad would kill him for having – 'cause that's just fucking _urges,_ right? Goddamned biology or whatever. Everybody wants to get off. Kissing though... That's different. That's some fucking gay shit, and he doesn't fucking _do_ gay shit, and if Gallagher puts his hands over Mickey's when they bang in the Kash 'N' Grab back room a few weeks later and Mickey doesn't tell him to fuck right off, that's still just _sex_. It's just sex.

He is eighteen and he kisses Ian because fuck you, he ain't scared of shit, and Ian's lips are dry and soft and there's a jolt of something warm and thrilling that feels a bit like horniness and a bit like somethinge else entirely.

He is nineteen and he's been sharing a bed with Ian for weeks but it's the first time Ian's wrapped his arms around Mickey from behind, full-on _spooning_ him, and Mickey stiffens for just a moment – but then he relaxes into the touch, into Ian's arms, because he's fucking _earned_ this. Bought the right with blood and broken teeth and if the whole fucking world is gonna know he's gay anyway he might as well have Ian's chest pressed against his back, Ian's leg pushed between his, and the soft press of Ian's lips against his shoulder before they both close their eyes and drift off to sleep.

He is twenty-two and the inmate moonlighting as prison barber hums while he works. His hand is hot and heavy on Mickey's forehead and Mickey wants him to take it the fuck away because... because it's fucking hot and heavy, that's why _._ Makes him feel like he's got a grilled fucking pork chop pressed to his face, _real_ sexy, and he's sent people to the infirmary for less. But there's another part of him that doesn't want the barber to take away shit, and well, he'd look pretty stupid throwing a fit over it anyway, so he keeps quiet. Returns for a haircut the next month, and the next.

He is twenty-three and wakes up to bright sunlight in his eyes and someone's arm draped over his waist. It takes him a moment to realize that the weight is _wrong,_ the smell is _wrong_ , this isn't _Ian_ behind him. He starts then, violently; sits up to stare down at... Gabriél, who's staring back at him with a frown. ”¿Que pasa?” he murmurs, sleepy still, but Mickey doesn't answer because how fucking drunk was he last night if he didn't only let Gabriél come back to his place but let him fucking _stay_ there once they were done banging? He likes the guy okay, sure, he's got a nice cock and is fine to hang out with for a few drinks before they fuck, but _Jesus._ ”Yeah, you need to get the hell out of here,” he says, reaching for his cigarettes and ignoring the hurt look in Gabriél's eyes. ”¡Sal! ¡Vamos!” That fucking faggot better not make an issue out of it, because Mickey is _this_ close to punching him in the face. Maybe Gabriél senses that, because he leaves without another word. Mickey doesn't call him again.

He is twenty-five and his husband shifts slightly to accomodate him as Mickey plops down next to him on the couch. Ian's arm snakes around his waist, his hand settling on Mickey's stomach as Mickey leans back against him and turns his head slightly for a quick kiss. ”If you two gonna make out the whole time again I'm leaving,” Carl warns from the armchair. ”Yeah, no one cares, fuckhead,” Mickey replies, even as he is smiling, even as Ian assures his younger brother that they'll be good, fingers momentarily digging into Mickey's flesh, not quite painfully. On Mickey's other side Debbie's got Franny on her lap and Liam propped up against her legs on the floor, and the smell of beer mixes with the smell of popcorn and of Ian, and Mickey breathes it in, once, twice, as his left hand finds his husband's, their fingers intertwining, hands rising and falling with every rise and fall of Mickey's chest, slow and steady and sure.


End file.
